


kick below the belt

by Fictionalistic



Category: Anitaverse, Original Work
Genre: F/F, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-19
Updated: 2014-06-19
Packaged: 2018-02-05 07:25:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,049
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1810168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fictionalistic/pseuds/Fictionalistic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The players on the field aren't necessarily the most competetive.. </p>
<p>AKA I felt like Anita and Harper would be scary soccer-moms.</p>
            </blockquote>





	kick below the belt

It’s the fifth game of the season, and something seems  _off_  about it.   
  
From her prime spot on the bleachers (she came here an hour early to stake claims on it - ha,  _suck it_ , Mrs. McCleary!), Anita eyes the two teams batting the soccer ball back and forth across the field with scrutiny. Ana is playing center-forward, and while Anita’s not entirely certain of what playing center-forward entails, she can tell that her  ~~kid~~  half-niece is absolutely slaughtering the other team.  
  
Her eye is caught by a motion to Ana’s left, a member of the opposing team that seems to have flinched away from.. nothing? In fact, Ana wasn’t even paying attention to that particular player..  
  
It happens again five minutes later. Ana, unable to resist an opportunity to gain the upper hand, darts forward to steal the ball from a player with at least a foot on her and twice her body weight. Anita expects immediate pursuit, but instead, the opposing player drops back and  _lets_  Ana take the ball down the field. She notes that the player is tugging at the end of her ponytail with seeming agitation, but thinks nothing of it.   
  
Until it happens again, two players ducking away from Ana just as she approaches with the intent to score. And this time, it’s accompanied by the unmistakable scent of burnt hair.   
  
Oh. And actual flames.   
  
Anita is quick to whip around and glare at the woman sitting calmly at her side.   
  
"Harper, stop it!"  
  
To which she is only granted a cursory eye-roll. The affected players are now shaking out their hair in an attempt to put out the burning strands. It’s their own faults if their hair further ignites, the witch thinks.  
  
"Harper, I know it’s you."  
  
The smirk catching the side of Harper’s mouth confirms Anita’s suspicions, and the preternatural glint in Harper’s eyes cements Anita’s fears. She’s tempted to order her friend to stand down, but in the end, Anita can only close her eyes and heave a long-suffering sigh. She can see Harper’s good intentions, even if they are unrecognizable to any other sane person.   
  
"Skin is off-limits, Har," she leans over to murmur into Harper’s ear. To the rest of the spectators, they look like two parents sharing a proud moment watching their kid. Gods, if only they knew.  
  
Harper nods once, and returns her attention back to the game. Ana’s team is winning and by the frightened looks of the other team, it’s probably going to stay that way.   
  
—-  
  
Ana’s team wins by a 10 point margin and no one comes off the field with a pre-2007 Easy Bake hairdo, so Anita counts it as an overall victory.   
  
After the game, Ana comes jogging up to them, dirt streaked all along her legs, the bruises on her skins already turning a curious shade of puce, and tangles them both in an earthy-smelling hug. Harper’s stiff as a board next to her, but tolerates the embrace - which is as close to openly affectionate as she can get in public. Their heads are all pressed together, and Anita takes the opportunity to bump her forehead against Ana and Harper’s at the same time, a goofy grin threatening to overtake her face.   
  
When the teenager finally lets the two of them go, it’s with a toothy smile - not unlike her aunt’s - and a small cheer.  
  
"We won!" As if it wasn’t obvious. And the best opening line for—  
  
"Hi, won. I’m Anita," she trails off uncertainly. Wait. That.. didn’t work out as planned.   
  
Harper hip-checks her while Ana goggles, mouth agape.   
  
"Did.. you just try to make a dad joke? And  _fail_?” And then she’s laughing so damn hard she’s near to tears.   
  
Anita desperately tries not to huff in indignation. She has an image, if one slightly marred by grass stains on her shirt. And she swore that was the prompting line in that meme…  
  
Ana recovers slowly, stifling giggles with her hand. “Gods, that was.. the  _best_. I’m going to tell everyone. Quinn. I’m going to tell Quinn, and  _he’s_  going to tell everyone.”  
  
By Ana’s lack of reaction to her aunt’s severe glare, it’s clear that she doesn’t respect Anita’s authority anymore. It’s a certainly a step up from Ana’s original response to authority - crippling fear and resentment, but still. Anita relents and allows herself a small, annoyed huff.   
  
"Alright, laugh it up, peanut. See if I ever share my cat videos with you ever again," she says, tossing her curls over her shoulder mock-haughtily.   
  
"I think I’ll survive, ‘Nita," Ana snickers. Her gaze turns to Harper, though the laughter in it has diminished. "I don’t know if I can say the same for the next team we’ll play."  
  
Harper just blinks at her with a still expression. There are no guises of innocence that sit comfortably on her face, so composed blankness will have to do.   
  
"Harper," Ana growls out ( _How cute_ , Anita thinks, _a baby growl!_ ), "I know you set their hair on fire. No one wants to play us anymore! They think we’re jinxed. Or make Satanical sacrifices."  
  
Harper lifts a perfectly arched brow in challenge. “Just what makes you think that.. _marvelous_  display of spontaneous combustion was my doing?”  
  
"The fact that you just called spontaneous combustion marvelous," Anita deadpans.  
  
Thirty seconds pass, one minute, then two - with twin narrowed gazes aimed with laser-like precision at Harper’s face. Anita does what her niece doesn’t dare, and stares straight into Harper’s eyes, and ignores the soft warmth curling in her chest as she does so.  
  
Three minutes pass in relative silence. The other spectators have long since left to find their cars in the parking lot.   
  
Then, Anita notices a slight change in Harper’s light complexion.  _Pink_.  
  
"Oh my gods, are you  _blushing_?” Ugh. Teenagers and their general lack of tact.   
  
Abruptly, Harper’s face returns to its normal state, a big, fat “I take that back, you idiots” if Anita’s ever seen one.   
  
Aunt and niece look on fondly as Harper sweeps imperiously toward the parking lot. Her ears are still pink.  
  
"Guess she really does care," Ana says almost wonderingly.   
  
"Kid, she tried to charbroil any player that got in your way. I only just stopped it at hair. Was it ever in question?"


End file.
